Love at Second Sight | Page 6

to meet the Mitchells,' said Bruce. 'It's only a chance, of course, that she hasn't met them already here, and I've told Mitchell at the Foreign Office a good deal about her. He's very keen to know her. Very keen indeed,' he added thoughtfully.
'And then the Mitchells will ask her to their house, of course?'
'I know they will,' said Bruce, rather jealously. 'Well, I shan't mind her going there--once or twice--it's a very pleasant house, you know, Edith. And she likes celebrities, and clever people, and that sort of thing.'
'Mrs Mitchell will count her as one, no doubt.'
'I daresay! What does that matter? So she is.'
'I know she is, in a way; but, Bruce, don't you wonder why she stays here so long? I mean, there's no question of its not being for--well, for, say, interested reasons. I happen to know for a fact that she has a far larger income for herself alone than we have altogether. She showed me her bank-book one day.'
'Why?'
'I don't know. She's so confidential, and perhaps she wanted me to know how she was placed. And--she's not that sort of person--she's generous and liberal, rather extravagant I should say.'
'Quite so. Still, it's comfortable here, and saves trouble--and she likes us.'
Bruce again looked up toward the mirror, though he couldn't see it now.
'Well, I don't mind her being here; it's a nice change, but it seems odd she hasn't said a word about going. Well, about the dinner. Who else shall we have, Edith? Let it be a small, intimate, distinguished sort of dinner. She hates stiffness and ceremony. She likes to have a chance to talk.'
'She does, indeed. All right, you can leave it to me, Bruce. I'll make it all right. We'll have about eight people, shall we?'
'She must sit next to me, on my left,' Bruce observed. 'And not lilies of the valley--she doesn't like the scent.'
Madame Frabelle was usually designated between them by the personal pronoun only.
'All right. But what was the delicate, difficult matter that someone consulted you about, Bruce?'
'Ah, I was just coining to that.... Hush!'
The door opened. Madame Frabelle came in, dressed in a violet tea-gown.
'Tea?' said Edith, holding out a cup.
'Yes, indeed! I'm always ready for tea, and you have such delightful tea, Edith dear!' (They had already reached the point of Christian names, though Edith always found Eglantine a little difficult to say.) 'It's nice to see you back so early, Mr Ottley.'
'Wouldn't you like a slice of lemon?' said Bruce.
To offer her a slice of lemon with tea was, from Bruce, a tribute to the lady's talents.
'Oh no! Cream and sugar, please.'
Madame Frabelle was looking very pleasant and very much at her ease as she sat down comfortably, taking the largest chair.
'I'm afraid that Archie has been bothering you today,' Edith said, as she poured out tea.
'What!' exclaimed Bruce, with a start of horror.
'Oh no, no, no! Not the least in the world, Mr Ottley! He's a most delightful boy. We were only having some fun together--about my mandolin; that was all!'
(Edith thought of the sounds she had heard on the stairs.)
'I'm afraid I got a little cross. A thing I very seldom do.' Madame Frabelle looked apologetically at Edith. 'But we've quite made it up now! Oh, and by the way, I want to speak to you both rather seriously about your boy,' she went on earnestly. She had a rather powerful, clear, penetrating voice, and spoke with authority, decision, and the sort of voluble fluency generally known as not letting anyone else get a word in edgeways.
'About our boy?' said Bruce, handing the toast to her invitingly, while Edith put a cushion behind her back, for which Madame Frabelle gave a little gracious smile.
'About your boy. Do you know, I have a very curious gift, Mr Ottley. I can always see in children what they're going to make a success of in life. Without boasting, I know you, Edith, are kind enough to believe that I'm an extraordinary judge of character. Oh, I've always been like that. I can't help it. I'll tell you now what you must make of your boy,' she pursued. 'He is a born musician!'
'A musician!' exclaimed both his parents at once, in great astonishment.
Madame Frabelle nodded. 'That boy is a born composer! He has genius for music. Look at his broad forehead! Those grey eyes, so wide apart! I know, just at first one thinks too much from the worldly point of view of the success of one's son in life. But why go against nature? The boy's a genius!'
'But,' ventured Edith, 'Archie hasn't the slightest ear for music!'
'He dislikes music intensely,' said Bruce. 'Simply loathes it.'
'He cried so much over his piano lessons that we were obliged to let him give them up. It used to make